


tightrope

by tysunkete (aozu)



Series: log(minus 1) anthology [10]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 05:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: Bicycle racing AU aka I tripped and fell into the abyss that is Yowamushi Pedal.





	tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written: 09/03/2015.

 

When Kanda’s phone rings the moment they step into the club room after practice, no one pays it any heed as the half-Japanese teen ignores it, grabs a towel and heads off towards the showers. No one except Allen Waller, their first year sprinter, who eyes the phone warily when it continues to ring on the bench. Alma Karma, their third year captain, notices the confused look and pats the younger on the shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“Kanda’s phone is ringing,” Allen supplies helpfully, pointing to the said gadget that was probably on its ninth ring by now. “Shouldn’t he pick it up? It might be important…”

Alma looks over to the phone and grins, shaking his head. “Nah, this happens all the time. Don’t sweat it. You should hit the showers. We ended late, the school gate is going to close soon.”

“Um. Okay,” the younger acquiesces, giving the (still ringing) phone a last suspicious look before darting off.

Alma gives a small smirk at the retreating junior’s back, shaking his own head as he takes his own towel to saunter out of the clubroom, leaving the phone chiming in the air. When he comes back from the toilets with the towel over his shoulders, most of their teammates have left; only Allen and Kanda are still lingering around—the younger putting his things slowly into his locker, side eyeing the other lying on the bench with the phone pressed to his ear. He comes in just in time to hear Kanda snarl,

“What the fuck are you looking at, beansprout?”

Allen merely looks towards their captain and says very blankly, “He’s talking on the phone with someone who isn’t on the team.”

“Yeah, I know it’s a miracle,” Alma answers easily.

“What the f—“ Kanda begins out of spite, but the moment that he lifts the phone away from his ear, a loud voice is heard from the other end.

“Is that the first year you told me about? Hey, let me talk to him, Yuu—Yuu, are you listening to me? Hey, Yuu—“

“Shut the hell up, rabbit,” Kanda hisses back to the phone, rubbing his temples. “Why the hell did you call me?” he grumbles, standing up and giving both Allen and Alma a flip of the middle finger, mostly because Alma was not so secretly giving him a _look_.

The half-Japanese disappears out of the clubroom, leaving an echo of silence as Alma folds his towel into his bag, and Allen stares blankly at the door Kanda walked out from.

“He’s talking on the phone with someone who isn’t on the team,” Allen repeats slowly.  
  
Though the junior has only joined them for a month, there were just some peculiarities about Yuu Kanda that were hard to miss. One was the oriental beauty, the other, the foul deposition and the complete hatred for social company, except maybe Alma, but that’s only because they’ve been tight for years. (Kanda would probably die without him, the loser, that’s the main reason really.) Not many people call Kanda personally—getting Alma to relay the message was the better option to be honest—and to have Kanda actually _answer_ the phone for more than ten seconds, now that, is a miracle.

But because Allen has only joined them for month, the younger doesn’t know that these calls actually come in quite often—so often, that no one else in the team bats an eyelid over it. It started even before they entered high school; there was a few days in which Alma thought he was living in some alternate reality when Kanda’s phone first vibrated from a text while they were playing Halo 2, but it happened again and again and _again_ through all three years till now. Alma thinks it’s weirder if it _doesn’t_ ring now.

“You’ll meet him at the inter-high,” Alma says in response. “He’s a sprinter, like you. A pretty fast one too,” he mutters. “You might have seen him before—he usually wins the sprint classification at stage races.”

Allen blinks for a bit. “Is this why I’m not cycling for the first intermediate sprint but Kanda is? Because he wants to race with his...friend?”

Alma barks a laugh. “You catch on real quick, my little man,” he half admits, grinning. “Well, though Yuu is an all-rounder he _does_ match you on flats,” he says, to which Allen scowls. “You’re all clear to win the rest anyway, since Yuu has to pull me for the finishing line.”

“Match?” someone interjects with sour tone, and it’s Kanda walking back in with a sneer and his hands tucked in his pockets. “I beat him, you mean.”

“Prick,” Allen smiles. “I won today.”

“That’s because I gave you a handicap, slow poke.”

“Is that the only excuse you can think of from your pea sized brain?”

“Your peanut head obviously can’t understand simple words—“

“Guys, break up your sexual tension,” Alma claps loudly, and the other two huff in annoyance at each other simultaneously. “It’s six, we gotta lock up.”

More grumblings are heard (from Kanda) as they take their bags so that Alma can lock up the clubroom. Allen bids them both farewell before he takes off with his road racer—he lives in the opposite direction from them both—and Alma and Kanda are on their own bicycles to the way home a few minutes later. The ride home is smooth and quiet, they’ve been cycling through it a million times by now.

“What did he talk to you about?” Alma asks absentmindedly as they cycle leisurely down the familiar road.

“Shit. As usual,” Kanda answers shortly, eyes trained ahead.

“Did he nag you about eating too much soba again?”

Kanda gives him a quick suspicious side glance. “What’s it to you?”

“I agree with him, that’s all,” Alma says easily. “You need more protein to bulk up more muscle—I mean, didn’t you see his arms and chest last month? They were pretty fucking _nice_.”

“Yeah, so what? It doesn’t give you speed—“

“So you agree,” Alma interrupts.

“Agree what?” Kanda snaps.

“That he has nice arms.”

Alma would most definitely pay for the silence that sinks in and Kanda’s extremely uncomfortable scowl that follows. “I-I didn’t say that.”

“But you agree.”

“You fucking asshole,” Kanda says instead, and pedals harder so that he’s in front.

“You’re so easy, Yuu,” Alma laughs and catches up with him with ease. “You should say something to him, after the interhigh.”

Kanda ignores him.

“By ‘saying something’ I mean ask him out.”

“Will you shut the hell up,” Kanda mutters darkly and puts more speed on his wheels, but Alma matches his pace without question.

“It’s your last year, you know,” Alma continues. “It might be your last race with him, if he doesn’t intend to continue racing or is going some far off place for university.”

“…I don’t care,” Kanda says finally after a long while of silent riding.

“Mmm. Of course you don’t,” Alma agrees lightly.

“It’s not like anything will change,” Kanda mutters, almost inaudible and Alma pretends that he didn’t hear it.


End file.
